


Teddy bear and ice-cream

by GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver



Series: Sherlolly (if you squint) [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver/pseuds/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver
Summary: Sherlock pays Molly an impromtu visit in the middle of the night. Merry Christmas :)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cuulaiid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuulaiid/gifts).



**24 th December, 13:00 am **

 

Are you busy? 13:01 am – SH  
  
BUUZZZZZ! Molly wakes up to her phone vibrating. She groans slightly. Too groggy to feel irritated or angry about her dream being cut so abruptly. She knows very well who it is without turning on the phone. She sluggishly reaches for her phone.

Was sleerp 13:02 am – MH

I need to come over. 13:02 am – SH

She doesn’t know whether to smile or curse. After all, he needs something and he is coming to her, hence implying that he not only trusts her, but finds her competent enough to help. On the other hand, she may be a second option as opposed to John. After all, he now had little Rosie and a wife – he cannot exactly run off into the night, solving mysteries and murders whilst his daughter wailed, unsure of why she was doing so. Either way, even in her sleep deprived state, she knows that she cannot concede straight away to Sherlock’s request.

A happy Christma would be nice. 13:02 am – MH

It’s no Christmas. It’s Christmas eve.  I am guessing you’re not busy? Open the door – SH

She rolls her eyes – of course, he’s already (rightly) deduced that she would accept his request. It doesn’t strike her until she is in front of the door, that she is in her nighty. At which point, she realises that she is in her nighty. The same one that she has worn for two nights in a row. She dreads to think what her hair looks like – it never looks pretty in the morning when she wakes up. She hesitates before she opens the door. Shouldn’t she go back and make sure she looks … presentable? However, knowing Sherlock for years, she knows that it doesn’t matter. The days she wore dress to impress him, he made a comment about her small breasts and lips, completely missing the dress.  How could wearing a nighty be any worse?

She opens the door and attempts to smile at the consulting detective. However, due to her sleep deprived state, it comes across as more of a grimace. He barges straight past her without even saying alone and she follows him into her room. Well, her old room anyway. They agreed that he needed the space and that she should take the other room, ages ago.

“What case are you working on this time?” She asks, groggily as he takes a seat on the chair. “What do you need my help for?”

This was not the first time that she had been woken up by an impromptu visit by Sherlock. A couple nights, she had to go all the way to the morgue so he could do something. Twice, to identify a body, once so that he could test out an experiment that had popped into his mind that evening and once to do a chemical test that simply couldn’t wait till the morning as a man’s alibi depended on it.

“I … I am not working on a case,” he explains.

“So, you decided to wake me up for fun?” She asks. However, she isn’t as irritated as she should be. In fact, a little bit of hope and excitement jolts through her. See, Sherlock Holmes never just pops by. He never visits her lab or home without a purpose. Usually, his purpose is a case.

“No, not fun,” he says. “I just wanted to ask something,”

“And that couldn’t wait till the morning? And couldn’t be over text?” She asks.

“No. I am running out of time. I had to be quick.” He explains.  

“Well go on,” she says, slightly more alert than she has been when her phone vibrated.

“I need to get Rosie a present for her first Christmas,” Sherlock explains. “And I have no idea what.”

Molly laughs involuntarily without thinking about it. Sherlock Holmes, the man who was tormented by murders and mysteries, who would only seek her advice or help when it came to dead bodies on cold slabs, was asking her for advice about a present? It was a little funny. Not remotely Sherlock like.

“What makes you think I would know?”

He frowns slightly “I assumed that anyone would be better in this department than me. Given that you are more in sync when it comes to people and social interaction.”

This time, Molly laughed harder and almost fell of the bed where she sat. Sherlock watched her, face passive. He had no idea what it was that could be so hilarious. Perhaps she told a joke? That is plausible – John after all did point out that Sherlock completely missed the point when it came to jokes.

“Me, in sync with social interactions. I work in a morgue. The closest I get is dead people. I know nothing more about babies than you do,”

“Well, at least come to the shops with me. Two heads are better than one, in instances where both know so little.” Sherlock says, pulling Molly to her feet. “The large Tesco’s near your flat is opened twenty-four hours,”

 

That is how Molly Hooper finds herself wandering the aisle of Tesco in her nighty with Sherlock Holmes. The store is sparse, given that it is night. However, the few people that they do encounter, give the pair weird looks. Perhaps they are trying to work out if Molly is under dressed in her nighty, or if Sherlock is over dressed in his usual suit. The basket that Molly holds is empty despite the pair walking around the store for ages. It is ironic, really. Two experts in their fields, completely confused and lost when it comes to something so relatively simple. Something that doesn’t require understanding the intricacies of chemicals or physiology but merely understanding others.

Eventually, they decide on a small teddy bear. Sherlock insists that the teddy bear is completely pointless. It has no function. What would a small child like Rosie do with a toy? Molly, who agrees and remarks that her parents pestered her with teddies when she was smaller, despite her obvious distaste, suggests that perhaps Rosie may like it anyhow. When Sherlock continues to hesitate, she reminds him that even if Rosie didn’t like it, the gesture is more salient. After all, if they continued looking, they’d probably never reach a consensus on what to buy and would probably end up with a night wasted and no present to show.

Along with the teddy, Sherlock picks up a large bucket of strawberry and vanilla ice-cream. Molly watches him rather shocked. One only buys food when they want to eat it, therefore suggesting that Sherlock wants to eat ice-cream. However, she has never seen him eat in the years that she has known him. Mostly as he is on a case and he never eats on a case. However, now that he is potentially going to eat, she would have never have had Sherlock Holmes down as a strawberry and vanilla ice cream sort of man. Knowing this for some reason feels like a special secret. A special bond that they both share and even though it makes her feel a little pathetic, a little bit of excitement dances in her stomach.

 

They leave the store and Molly expects Sherlock to walk back to his flat. However, she is pleasantly surprised when he follows her back to her flat. She can tell by the way that he has placed the ice-cream precariously on her kitchen table that sleepiness is seeping into his bone and that it won’t be long until he has to surrender to sleep. Despite this, he powers through. He slowly walks to her cupboards and pulls out two bowls and two spoons. He silently uses one of the spoons to heap ice-cream into both bowls before pushing one to her.

She smiles “I never had you down as a strawberry and vanilla ice cream sort of man,” she says. She kicks herself mentally. Sleep does weird things to her brain, leaving her more inhibited and somewhat brave with words.

“I am more of a mint and chocolate chip man myself,” he says in between a mouthful. “Strawberry and vanilla is more your favourite,”

“Then why…” she asks, a little surprised. Firstly, that he has revealed something about himself – something about the man behind the mysteries and murders. He doesn’t often tell her much about himself, so even trivial things like his favourite Ice-cream flavour is like a golden nugget for her to treasure like her life depends on it. Secondly, he is surprised that Sherlock Holmes bought he ice-cream based on her preferences.

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“Molly, I don’t know anymore.” He says so silently that she wouldn’t have caught it if she were not listening to Sherlock avidly.

She smiles sympathetically. She slightly understands why earlier that night, Sherlock had come to her for something to do with human interaction. She was not marvellous when it came to interacting with people, but emotions were not a foreign language to her. She sees them silently at the side lines but has no idea how to use them.

“You’re scared because of the change. Because they have each other and their baby and because you are no longer their priority. And that hurts. You don’t fully understand why that hurts and why you are scared and why you have to feel so irrational. I expect it is all a little confusing. John and Mary still love you. You have nothing to worry about,” she says, reaching out her hand and touching Sherlock’s shoulder. She has no idea what possesses het to touch him and she immediately tries to retract her hand from Sherlock, scared that he may scowl at her. However, he quickly reaches for her hand and squeezes it slightly. He quickly let’s go and continues eating his ice cream.

Molly’s heart beats frantically like a drum. She has known Sherlock for several years, yet she can count on her fingers the amount of times that they have been that intimate. Whenever he is, it is spontaneous and she replays the moment in her head endlessly for weeks.

“Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. Love is paralytic. Emotions are not an advantage. Yet, when I see Rosie and the Watsons, I am challenged. Because they will love her and they will protect her whatever it takes.” He says silently.

Molly’s breath hitches. It is the most honest thing that she has ever heard Sherlock say and she is unsure as to whether it is beautiful or sad. Without thinking about it, Molly gets up and moves closer to Sherlock. She slips one of her hands in his and squeezes. Both her and Sherlock are silently astounded by her bravery and confidence. However, Sherlock makes no attempt to move.

 

They sit there silently for hours, until eventually, Sherlock removes his hand from hers. At which point, he smiles sadly at her.

He kisses her briefly on the cheek. “Thank you Molly Hooper. And Merry Christmas,”


End file.
